The First-Hand Account of a Pipsqueak Explorer
by All Opatry
Summary: Shy the shaymin encounters adventure and strife in Zruaset, home to a rekindling exploration scene, in the hopes of finding a cure to mindbreak-an illness that inhibits the use of powers. At half the strength & half the size of all the other explorers, Shy will have to try ten times as hard to find his own style, in a world where the consequences for failure run high. Post SPMD.
1. Chapter 1, or why I mistrust pottery

**The First-Hand Account of a Pipsqueak Explorer**

* * *

 _Normal_ is a strange and often clumsily used word. Some of us think it is _normal_ not to drool, not to stare, and not to crack open age-old urns containing the ghost of a pokémon. Being normal is the effort, being weird is easy. Normalcy poses itself—as the mathematicians in the best towers of Zruaset might describe it—perpendicular to the line of weirdness. It is an upward climb we undertake in order to coexist without tugging our fur out over one another.

At times, you can't quite guess which line is which, or so to say, the day I discovered my brother had acted strangely and cracked open an age-old urn containing the ghost of a pokémon, I chose a normal reaction: running for my life. Yet it is this normal decision that threw me head-first into Strappo, who murdered normalcy in all its meaning and spat fire on the remains.

Strappo stood at six feet tall where I was shorter than most of the flowers I grow in my garden. He had a plain look on his face while my village friends told me my expression was too intense, a backpack made of deer-leather on his great back whereas-don't laugh-I would yell for my father whenever I spotted a deer.

I bounced off his leg, my head spinning from the collision. It was a quiet _bump_ to Strappo, who in all odds probably thought he kicked an exposed root. it might as well have been a gong to me. I didn't know his name yet, or why he came out after me. I had seen him before. This typhlosion shared a meal with my father, Bercreaux, who shoved me into my room with a bowl of soup and shut the door on their conversation. I respected their privacy then, and I was relieved (oddly) that Strappo hadn't respected mine now.

"Help!" I cried to the adult.

He looked down. "Oh, I thought you were a root."

I ignored the comment, or rather, failed to hear it. "My b-brother." I gasped for air. "He headbutted an urn, a-and it broke, and a hundred different pieces came raining _up_. They shot at us!"

"How'd you know they were all different?" Srappo asked.

He was more focused on watching for danger than studying my face, so he didn't see my eyes go blank. "Um, I just know. It was like a window shattering." More like _exploding_. "That doesn't matter, though, we have to save my brother!"

"Listen closely," he said. "I think he is on the way."

I felt rather than listened. My four puny paws felt the slapping of bigger ones against the earth. They were familiar. When I felt them in the safety of my home, it was a message to move whatever book I had out of the way. Because Barf had always liked to get a running start before—

Barf exploded out from behind a bush, several twigs and leaves tangled in the ruffled fur on his head. He was always an odd growlithe. Not what one would call typical: imagine all the weird things a dog can do, and he tended to do them with a grin. At the moment, he decided to lead shards of pottery our way. One caught scent of me and rocketed into the ground next to my hindquarters. Always a troublemaker, my brother Barf. I hadn't seen him in years. Four to be exact.

"Wow," Barf barked, panting. "It's so great to see you Shy! How's old-fella Bercreaux—" a shard stabbed the tree next to him. It seemed to shiver in its spot inches from the growlithe's nose. "Guh. I shouldn't have broken that urn."

"Right?!" I asked near-hysterically.

"Your brother hasn't been possessed," Strappo said.

"Hooray!" I yipped. I always grew a bit caustic when imperiled. "Did you hear th-th-that! Not possessed, Barf!" Another shard bounced off the first piece near my backside. I let out a rather ghastly shriek.

"This must be an _evil-without_ ghost who is too weak, or your brother's willpower won over it. Whatever the case, it decided to perforate everyone instead." A new piece appeared. It glowed purple in the shadowed forest. And then, flashed red before shooting at the typhlosion.

 _Watch out_ , I tried to shout, not a syllable escaping before the typhlosion swung out his arm. He had snatched it right out of the air.

"This won't be too tough to fix," Strappo mentioned as he walked away, bundling up the pieces. "Stay here. And..." he gave me a good look-over. "Er, keep low, I guess."

Barf cocked his head to one side. "Whozzat? Buddy..." he nudged me with his wet nose. "No need to be afraid. I'm back."

I took in a deep breath. "N-N-No idea... Bercreaux met him yesterday. He slept overnight in the study. All I know is that they have private talks and he likes surprise soup." Our adoptive parent devoted much of his life to agriculture, but entei, who invented the cooked meal while on his Unending Hunt, should have banned Bercreaux from mixing vegetables together in a broth.

"No wonder he walked towards the ghost. If he enjoys surprise soup he probably wants to hurt himself."

I smiled sheepishly, earning my namesake. _Shy._ "He's gotten better at cooking," I lied.

Barf also smiled. A note of doggish guilt was lit in his eyes and in the way he hunched down. "I must have been gone forever. Because that's how long it would take him to prepare a decent meal. How are you, buddy?" _Buddy_ is a normal nickname, except what Barf means is closer to _Bud_ -dy. Flowers grow on my back when I become grateful. It proved to be an indelible phenomenon for the dog.

"A little worried about where I am in the world. Thanks to you." I added the last piece in passing, as my way of getting even.

That note of doggish guilt became full-blown. "Gah! I didn't know you followed me. Your paws make no noise and everything around here smells like you. _Plant,_ y'know _?_ I shouldn't have broken the urn at all. But Bercreaux always talked about how it was a menace, and I got done with my hero training..."

I ought to have repeated the oft-used line of our father-in-spirit _:_ what does _but_ mean? That everything before it doesn't matter _._

 _But_ , I was too excited to stay angry. "Y-You passed? You're a hero?"

"Well, I call it 'hero training.' I really graduated from an rescue-focused guild in Zruaset. They're called Critters' Beginnings. I'm a Critter now. I also learned how to use an abacus, a guitar, and a whole bunch of other things!"

"Congratulations! That's amazing, all of it." Barf was a one-track critter. His goal? To become a hero. Bercreaux gave him money for passage to Zruaset a few years ago, to follow his dreams. One day later than a few years ago, he chased after them like a thrown stick. Being heroic wasn't quite the same as exploring or rescuing as a job. I might be the only one who understood, the only one he ever told, that his idea of a hero was somebody who solved...

"This is a _real problem_ ," Barf whined. "I wonder if that typhlosion is okay." I was at the right height to see his paws writhe. "Maybe each shard stabbed into the vents on his back, plugging up his fire until he exploded."

I added in my own luck to stop our reunion from spoiling. "I'm going to evolve soon. I'm at that age, apparently."

"So cool! Into what?"

"Don't you remember?" I kept my eyes on the ground, not a hard feat for someone my height. "No one knows what I am."

"You're a shaymin," Strappo said, sauntering through the brush.

"Guh?"

"Yeah." He snorted. "Good for you. Rare species. Mythic orders around you are spread all over the continents."

For the most part, you want to ignore strangers who call you names. But this name had a certain weight to it. _Shay-min._ You probably have known what you are your entire life, if you do not mind me accusing you of having a stable, sensible life. So, this name, from this pokémon, well... I guess you should know I never get agitated. I just get more and more shy.

"Sorry," I muttered, "I don't think..." our situation flooded back to me. "Eep. G-G-Ghost?"

"What he means to say," Barf said in my stead, "is the ghost gone?"

Strappo frowned in that special _adult_ fashion. "Yes. I sealed it back in its urn." He showed us the marble vessel. Verdant light splashed across its shattered surface. "When your brother mentioned _different_ pieces, I knew I had to rebuild the broken vessel. Unlike you, growlithe. The one who broke it in the first place. Mind explaining your process? You must be discrete about your fantastic work ethic."

Barf hung his head in great shame. "Well, it's too amazing for you to understand."

"Hmph. Seems your ethic is more surreptitious than discrete."

Barf laid down in a heap. "I get it. Because I should be ashamed of it." Understanding Strappo's meaning, at least, earned Barf an approving nod.

"You were gone a moment. You fixed it so fast," I told the typhlosion.

Strappo patted the urn. "It's like any other puzzle. Start with the corners and use glue when you get it wrong."

I couldn't hold my tongue. "But that's an oval," I told him. "There are no corners."

Strappo smiled. "According to the best mathematicians in Lamoise," he said, "an urn is a complex, three-dimensional object which is neither an oval or even a cylinder, although it _is_ close to those shapes. You wanted to call it _round._ "

Or _rounded_ , like the thoughts circling in my head like a sharpedo-gam. Over time, I tend to bank a sort of adventurous passion inside my heart. It swells, until I'm forced to spend it all in a silly sneeze—following Barf into the woods on a whim, for instance. Now my fervor had emptied, and I wanted nothing more than to slump into my bed and ask, _did this all really happen?_

Having, in all likelihood, saved hundreds of pokémon from peril, Strappo recognized my exhaustion. He scooped me up into his arms without asking (one of the worst things to do to a short pokémon) and kept me inches from the urn (one of the worst things to do to me personally).

"We're going to your caretaker, shaymin," Strappo said. "Unless your brother wants to travel to the sand continent, into the Shadowed Pyramid, and headbutt the Sandstone Sarcophagi Triad, who will then wrathfully summon sandstorms large enough to destroy Sahra Town many times over."

"Wh-aa-at?" Barf yowled. "Is that a real place? Did something like that really happen?"

Some memory made the typhlosion gnash his teeth. "I didn't master glue yesterday. Come on."

I might have understood this as the moment Strappo took interest in me. He carried me like a precious bouquet of flowers, and his demeanor lightened as we walked out of the forest. Barf walked by my side, respecting the quiet even while wanting to bark at it. There was joy in his eyes and he frolicked enough in the pasture between here and Sunstarch village for both of us. Beside the giant typhlosion carrying me, it was like four years ago.

Meanwhile, that aforementioned, single word ensured this would be more than a pleasant moment:

It made it into the moment I, a shaymin shorter than a decent blade of grass, fell into the life of an explorer.

* * *

 **I plan to update as soon as possible for each part. Please leave me with your thoughts and suggestions.**


	2. Chapter 2, detail before the action

In the last article or chapter or whatever it is called, I claimed _one_ word led to me becoming an explorer. Doubtful? I guarantee you are. However you may feel! This story, if it has a phrase, gets it from ancient-human linguists in Zruaset: _vires acquirit eundo._ It gains strength by going. And from the forest, a confusing and blundering start, one which gives a very bad impression of my brother and shows Strappo to do heroic acts, it goes to Sunstarch. Where I lived out my childhood. Also, where I lived to my embarrassment, as a sort of idol. An idol! I know, I know. Bear with me for another piece of this origin story.

The moment Strappo arrived at the gate, he was rushed by a dozen pokémon fawning over his achievement. I bet the loved ones of every rescue made it seem he had saved the world. I question if anyone ever beat Sunstarch's pining.

"Back safe and sound!" Cried an elderly heatmor, into the clamor. Mawzkuba. Pronounced _mouse-koo-ba._ Our smith, who appreciates the handiwork of our gate. Unlike other places in the valley, it is an actual wall. Wooden stakes rise up around our village, large as tree trunks, bolted down with iron plate added on by the heatmor himself.

We lived a simple life in the Grass Valley, a region smack dab in the center of the Grass Continent. If you took a long walk to the north, beyond several settlements with but one or two stone houses, you would find a waterfall. Then, if you went through the dungeon _behind_ the waterfall, and pulled on a certain gem at its end, you could arrive at the Torkoal Hotsprings, located in the nearby mountains.

Not far to Sunstarch's west is Treasure Town. But, beside what was happening in the city of Zruaset, pokémon of the Grass Continent had experienced a _settling down_. Even four years ago, when Barf left to become an explorer, it was a decision that turned a lot of heads. Doubly so, since Sunstarch was considered the epicenter of trade for the entire Grass Vallet, and we-meaning me-were as close to royalty as royalty gets in the boondocks. So his choice to abandon a rich life made him out to be a tad... _furbrained_ _._

"Oh, dear Shy, you must not run off after your headstrong brother," said a bibarel named Nancy. She waddled forward and began cuffing Barf. "Oh, you incorrigible beast! Causing trouble again mere hours after arriving. Who ever said time abroad could cure a wandering spirit?!"

"Ow, ow, I get it," Barf said as others joined in. He replied to myriad reprimands with grace. "Yikes, I know, get angry at _him_ , that's unfair, you don't decide if I get dinner, the urn had it coming—"

" _What?"_ Shouted several of Sunstarch's residents. " _The urn?!"_ Nancy wailed and pitched onto her side, kicking up a dust-cloud.

I began to rouse from my stupor when Strappo put his other paw forward. "Check it out, folk of Sunstarch. I put the ghost back in. Anyone want to hold it?"

The answer was no. Obviously. Screams broke out in the main square. As an idol, you begin to take on certain jobs. Diffusing a panicking crowd is one of them.

"Hello, everyone!" I yipped, blinking away the grogginess. They grew silent upon hearing my voice. "Strappo asked Barf to locate the urn so he could destroy it for us. _Pro bono."_

Several heads tilted.

"Free of charge."

Relief spread throughout the crowd.

"Nice lad," Mawzkuba rasped. "I didn't think they made your mettle anymore. Zruaset might be turning out old-hearted explorers, after all." It hurt hearing that. I was certain, somewhere down the line, someone would joke about the _oldie_ comment he said, which is how he would remember ever uttering it. He doesn't do much work in the smith anymore. Bercreaux mentioned moving him into the main hall... another conversation slammed shut in my face, thankfully.

"Well," I said, winging it harder than a delibird sent over a cliff, "Barf here thought it was an, er... evil-within ghost. It was evil-without. Whoops. _C'est la vie?_ " I hoped this made sense to all the grownups. "Had to let them know. Even at a risk to myself." do you ever find yourself in a situation where you want to shut up, but those listening keep asking for more? "Ha, ha-ha, duty sometimes drags us in front of danger, it's all well that ends well. Live every day to the fullest, and if you find someone who isn't, live theirs too. U-Um, believe in yourself?" I had ran out of quips. "Er..."

"I think that's enough floundering." I recognized that wry rasp. A chuckle followed. Bercreaux-here to save me from myself! The absol snaked through the audience, head raised high to gather attention. The moon-like blade on his head glimmered for a second as he righted it under the sun. Everyone moved out of his way. "Explorer Strappo, Shy, _Barf_." The last name came with a fair amount of surprise. Barf resisted his urge to run over and tackle the absol. "You three seemed to have had an adventure."

"It was a _pro bones_ operation," said Lebbie the furret, who immediately shrunk down and pretended to be anyone-except-Lebbie. From then on, Lebbie's pronunciation cemented itself in Sunstarch's lore. It wasn't _pro bono_ , but _pro bones_ forever after.

Bercreaux barked with laughter. "Ha! My apologies, Strappo. You must be caught in my son's fib."

My eyes shifted. "I don't know what you mean." It was futile. He had my number.

 _"_ He means to say," the typhlosion whispered to me, "the job was definitely not _pro bono."_ I shivered. This typhlosion on one end, my father on the other? Not good in the slightest. I didn't have a poké coin to my name to pay an explorer. "Maybe I will have you grow a bed of flowers everywhere I sit. For a year. Oop. A decade sounds nice."

Sensible as I was back then, this childish trick managed to startle me. "N-No, I can make up the money! Barf, let me borrow money. You must have plenty with your new job as a critter."

The growlithe frowned. "Explorers and rescuers are supposed to be paid?"

Strappo gaped. "Yes. Have been since the days of Wigglytuff's Guild. Does your guild know you _don't_ know..."

"Oh sheesh... that's why they keep accusing me of hiding funds! I was wondering what my pals meant." Barf smiled guiltily. "I guess I'm _pro bones,_ Shy. Sorry."

Now in the throes of perhaps the most mundane, disappointing conversation happening on that moment in the grass continent, our group of spectators dwindled. Soon, the villagers had resumed their business, though now it was peppered with gossip.

"You send a certain percentage of every job's reward to your team," Strappo explained. "And you can keep the rest. Maybe put it towards finding the mean creature who lobotomized you."

The growlithe let out a lamenting whine. "My brain's all there, promise. You're amazing, though. You know all the big words like my brother. I'm pretty furbrained."

As an aside, I don't want to take credit where it isn't due. Yet I feel if I hadn't taught Barf the word _lobotimize_ years ago—and yes, I used it in the same context as Strappo—it would have been much harder for the growlithe to earn the explorer's respect.

"You rescuing types," Strappo said, relaxing. "I don't want normal payment. I want to experiment on Shy."

If somebody says they want to _experiment_ on you, run for the hills. I was stuck in his arms and couldn't. I bit my tongue, waiting to hear my caretaker's answer.

Bercreaux grew hesitant. "Well, I'm sure you might be able to put that into better terms."

"I want to help him evolve. For shaymin, evolution ponds are useless. Well, without a catalyst. They need a special flower to achieve their next form."

"You left this out of our conversation yesterday."

"You served surprise soup. I had to dock you somehow."

"Fair enough."

Now all sorts of frazzled, I stammered my way into their talk. "W-Who is he, dad?"

"I think you know his name to be Strappo. He is an explorer from a renowned guild. He and I trade information. He informs me about things I wish to study, and he gets to know if I have any dreams." _Dreams_ here meant the nightmares all absol have, the harbingers of catastrophes. "I get to enjoy myself and everyone wonders how Strappo arrives at the scene of a disaster so darned fast. If his price is more than dreams, however... I'm afraid, Strappo, the ultimate choice lies with Shy."

"Yes," I said straightaway. "Of course." This didn't deserve a second thought. I thought my zeal for adventure was gone after all the fun in the forest. But I was, in truth, still starved for change. So... anything to evolve, I decided. Even trusting Strappo and the flower he had pulled from his bag.

"Glad to hear my trip was worth it," Strappo said. "This flower involved a two-day hike into the lively vegetation surrounding the Glen Palisade. The disciples there believe in nature above all else... they also have a nasty predisposition against intruders."

"You stole it?" I asked, growing distressed. It was hard to be too angry, because that flower, the simple pink flower, matched those growing on my back. I almost bloomed, as if coming in tune with the flower.

"No, I wouldn't dare steal from the Glen. I explained your situation and they offered it in exchange for a favor. In time, you'll have to visit them. Thank them for the flower yourself."

I ground my teeth. "H-How far are they?"

"Doesn't matter. They had a lot of confidence you would trip into their Glen on your own volition." He smiled. "Their words."

No one heard my tiny squeak of fear.

Bercreaux guffawed. "I know _ominous_ , and that is certainly it. Even so! This is an occasion for celebration. I can't believe you managed to find a crucial piece to my son's evolution. Alone as you are."

The typhlosion nodded and put away the flower. "Yes, alone."

"You swore you would form a team. For my sake, friend."

"It's hard to find the right pokémon," he replied, "those who won't cause a Glen's inhabitants to string you up." His tone was positively scathing. "See my ankle?" I gasped: it had no fur! I missed this when I bumped into it earlier. "Sheared by a rope. Half my time at the Glen was spent upside down. My guide gave in to panic and shot water at all the Glen's warriors. They fight just as well when they are soggy."

"Pokémon make mistakes. It's a part of our our condition."

"Not in my team they don't. Won't, I mean."

"Be patient—"

" _Bercrea-aa-ux!"_ Barf shouted, already headlong into a charge. He slammed into the absol, bringing them both low to the ground. Our poor father wheezed, the wind knocked out of his chest. A—sadly about to become regular—case of Barf forgetting the strength he obtained from training. "Okay, I waited forever for you all to finish talking. I was about to explode! _Bloosh!_ " He licked Bercreaux's cheek, barking with glee.

"I beg you, enough, you'll shatter my ribs with that sort of roughhousing." Bercreaux let out a wheeze. Barf relented. "I apologize for ignoring you. Let's go talk while..." he glanced at the typhlosion.

He was still rather unhappy about their tit-for-tat. "I can take your kid to the evolution pond anytime. I'd prefer a break, though. Or at least as much quiet as possible-can you keep this growlithe far away from us, at least for a little while?"

"Wonderful! Today it is. Barf and I will catch up in my study while the two of you make arrangements. We can meet you over at the pond. I feel, while it would be nice to make it a large occasion for the village, Shy prefers the event to be quiet."

"I do," I said. "But maybe Mawzkuba can come."

"He won't be able to make the walk," Bercreaux told me.

"He is out and about today, he says the aching is gone."

"Shy, it is too—"

Strappo, in spite of his agitation, still had the kindness to butt in. "Say, where do you want the urn?"

"It was a real problem," Barf added.

The absol shook his head, grinning. A part of it was bitter, still snagged on the heatmor's condition. "Children, the Urn of the Inaccuracy is cursed itself. All the objects it throws are doomed to miss. It'd be a stretch to call it a real problem."

"H-Huh?" Barf's ears fell flat. "But one piece went straight for Strappo."

"Because it knew he would catch it. I'd say things calmed down afterward, correct? The ghost was pleased to see the explorer catch the thing, and resigned itself to capture."

" _Inaccuracy, inaccuracy,"_ Barf repeated. "If you say it right, it sorta sounds cool, like _divinity_ or _impropriety._ "

"Come on you foolish dog," Bercreaux said, "let's get you washed up and reacquainted with old friends. Contact me through your orb when the preparations are complete, Strappo. Ah—and I will take the urn. It might be good for some pranks down the road."

We bade each other farewell and went to the business of evolving me. It was hard to imagine going to the forest twice in a single day. Yet I went, in hopes of going, I could gain strength.

This might seem easier to tell you in passing, rather than in any sort of detail. But then I wouldn't be able to tell you Strappo's request to Bercreaux, to keep Barf _far away_ , was more than an attempt at some peace and quiet. He also wanted a chance to speak with me in private, without my brother breathing down our necks. So he could ask me something which should only be asked in the right conditions.


	3. Chapter 3, Strappo puts forward an offer

There was much I needed to tell Barf, ask Barf, yell at Barf, but the excitement of evolving took priority. A long time ago, the growlithe promised me I'd evolve into a beast six-feet tall that could crunch faces with its molars. I would have been startled. Still, even in the case I became _smaller_ , evolution meant power.

I had grown tired of going village to village in the Grass Valleys, blessing crops and reviving gardens. I worked on a tight schedule outside of summer, so tight, this story would have never taken place if Strappo arrived at Sunstarch in the fall. Pokémon I visited on tour showered me with gifts—because gifts made me bloom with gratitude, and when my flowers poke out of their buds, I gain the ability to change nature. I can restore the fertility of soil by standing over it.

I didn't want to keep accepting donations. I didn't want gifts to do something I'd be more than happy to do _pro bono—pro bones_ , as Sunstarch sees it, and would see it for the rest of time. If I only could do it for free, I wished.

So the typhlosion and I found ourselves together for longer than either of us expected. I could see written on his jowls that this explorer expected to drop off the flower, give instructions, and go off to do bigger things. I concluded my judgment of him: he was an intellectual of his own odd breed. Curiosity kept him on my pace rather than abandoning me to my fate. He _did_ try to impatiently lift me up, and I regret to say I gave a pitiful yip.

"Beautiful day," Strappo said, seething. It was the last thing _he_ would ever be concerned about. "Ever feel concerned about how nice the view is up where I am?"

"Bercreaux lets me on his back to see, when we go on tour around the villages," I said.

"Well, let me lift you up. See the poppies and the dandelions."

I balked. "N-No thanks." I enjoyed the last time, to my great shame, but couldn't accept the offer twice. "Pokémon ought to walk their path no matter how small they are. My father's words."

"Walk your path, except when he lifts you up."

"He does it to be nice... you just want to... well..."

"Want to what?"

 _Get to the pond faster_. I was not about to push this further.

Strappo dropped the subject. "I'm going to pay you a compliment. Will that make you squirm and walk slower?"

My curiosity peaked. A compliment from an explorer? I had no idea what I did to earn it. "N-No. What is it?"

"Earlier, when we first met, you showed a lot of promise."

We met when the urn assaulted us. I showed zero promise there. "Um, I don't think so."

" _Different._ "

I couldn't recall the significance.

"You said the vessel broke into a hundred _different_ pieces." Strappo scratched his ear. "As if you knew, deep down, how to fix the problem."

"Oh, that was luck, I guess."

"And later," he continued, ignoring me, "when you lied to your village (I wished quietly he could have put it another way), you used _evil-within_ and _evil-without_ in the right context. You're quick-witted and knowledgeable." The typhlosion chortled. "Uh oh. Seems you appreciated my compliment."

I tensed up to try and stop them. My flowers bloomed anyway. Pink and yellow, their sweet scent clung to the breeze. Next to my feet, the grass started to inch forward out of the ground. Then it folded over, truncating itself to the right height for me to see over. "Sorry!" I cried. I loved to read. Hearing a dignified explorer like Strappo say it paid off, well, it was better than most gifts. My single hobby. Books and books and books. I was good at reading!

"For your edification-in the case your brother conjures another spirit-evil-within means the ghost tries to possess you through your bad thoughts. Those are the dangerous ghosts who have lived for centuries, and can burrow into a mind the moment its owner trespasses on their land. Their influence is as subtle as a poisoned well, or your own bad breath. Evil-without uses sheer force to overpower another creature's will. Luckily for all of us involved, the Urn of Inaccuracy possessed too little strength. Or we might all be stuck in a fugue state trying to toss rocks at a tree, missing every time."

I was surprised in how much humor I found in that. Thoughts swirled in my head as our talk went along. _Possession isn't funny, right? Why am I amused by peril when this typhlosion talk about it?_

"Not all ghosts leave you with sore arms," Strappo said, growing stern. "Some may force harm on your loved ones, or make you walk off a cliff. Ghosts are... incredible entities to observe. For example, I suppose you found it intriguing that the ghost knew I would catch the shard."

"I did!" I squeaked. "I mean, maybe it assumed from your gait you had the skill to. On the contrary, it might also think you would avoid it, unless, unless—"

"Unless it knew, down to the letter, how I interact with flying objects. Ghosts become a single note. Throwing, or wailing, or making outhouses bubble up. Whatever act they do, they comprehend it on a metaphysical level. The afterlife, what happens after we die... when it comes to throwing, the Urn of Inaccuracy can glimpse everything we ever will be in our near-misses. It stems from the solitude of its existence. Throw, throw, throw, never another option, like a bottleneck leading into the _beyond._ "

My chest grew tight. It didn't seem too exciting, walking in a plain and talking ghosts, but I found it exhilarating.

Strappo sighed. "Some otherworldly wisdom isn't meant to be shared. If you come upon a wailing ghost, for example, run away and don't forget to scream. You do _not_ want to feel grief undiluted by any other emotion. And never assume laughter on its own is any better. I lost an acquaintance that way..." Strappo stopped. "Never mind."

I trembled, yet couldn't stop my stupid mouth from flapping. "What happened to your friend?"

"He allowed the Chuckling Ghost of Redseeder Forest to possess him in a bout of depression. Afterwards, he responded to all stimuli with laughter. Whether it was pain or us begging him to snap out of it. Everything was so damned funny. At the point we surrendered him to a facility, he was a ghost who swaggered through life without any purpose but to laugh. He ran away from the ward to Arceus-knows-where the last I remember... Shy."

"Y-Yes?" I am unsure whether I said a word at that moment, or simply wheezed.

"Do you want me to escort you to Zruaset? To become an explorer."

A bit of advice: when inviting another to join your profession, don't lead with how one member lost his mind and was doomed to shamble through the continents beset by unstoppable laughter. Right away, I started to shake my head.

"The world needs more of you," Strappo said, speaking quickly, "and less of your brother. Pokémon well-read enough to keep other adventurers in check."

My flowers retracted into their buds. "I, um, thank you for inviting me. It's just, I don't think I'd be useful."

"I travel alone because other pokémon make mistakes. If I travel with a team of such and such great explorers, it's only inevitable a slip up happens and I watch them disappear."

"Has... has that happened to you before?"

"Never!" He snapped. "I was smart enough to get out while I could. You'd have to be an idiot to wait around long enough to see them into their own death-traps. Do you understand?" He pounded one paw against the other. "If I think you have what it takes to be error-less, you do."

"No thank you. I need to stay here."

"Stick around here, right!" Bit by bit, he grew more passionate, louder. "They need you to make their lives perfect. There are thousands of pokémon who need help, and you are the sort to help, but you can't because that absol coddled you until you thought you were a baby! _Pwecious I-dowl!_ "

"I, I... please don't raise your voice. I'm afraid."

"I'll yell if I want to!" Strappo roared. I skittered away, whimpering.

"No," a voice called, "you will stop hollering at him. Now." Strappo swung around to meet the voice's owner.

For the attentive reader, it might be obvious that my life as an idol is missing an important piece. It is sensible I had a brother, who left me then came back. It is reasonable that I traveled from village to village on Bercreaux's back. But the absol was old at the time, right? So who protected us from danger while we toured the Valleys?

Her name is Iduma. I'd use her staggering height as a comparison to Strappo's. Yet, in this eye-to-eye meeting in the pasture between giants, she lacked presence, like a visible-invisible thing. So much so, I hadn't caught her scent, or felt her paws beat the earth. If I had to describe her in two words it would be: _pleasant surprise._ If there is a single word for a pleasant surprise, then I'd be able to describe her in one word.

The zangoose snarled. "Elder Bercreaux said to bring him to the pond, not advertise your job to him."

Strappo returned the snarl. "Leave us to our talk or I burn the flower, Iduma the _farmer_." He said the last word in a _quote-unquote_ fashion.

"No!" I shouted, unable to help myself.

My guardian shook her head in disgust. "You, a creature who boasts of never making mistakes, are on the precipice of one."

"Burning it is a mistake? Why, will you make it so?"

She clacked her beastly claws together. "If needs must."

She swore up and down about being a farmhand before Bercreaux brought her in as a guardian. I doubted her story. Once, a party of six bandits charged my caretaker and I as we passed over a bridge. She showed up unannounced—a pleasant surprise like always. I didn't get to see what happened. On the way back, though, I saw all six thugs slaving away on the destroyed bridge. Meanwhile, other pokémon had to use a fallen log to cross the river. Iduma stood on the bank to watch, tail wagging in slow, delighted swings.

"Ever seen a spitfire in action?" Strappo asked her.

"Ever see the dirt up-close?" Iduma shot back.

If Barf was here, he might try to fan the flames in order to see a great fight. I, however, am far from my brother.

"Please, please, please!" I cried. "Don't burn the flower. Strappo. I promise to consider your request. Really consider it, like a math question in a book. Iduma, there was a reason he yelled. He fell onto the subject of an old friend and it was my fault for prodding his bad memories." A part of me felt Strappo was going to ask either way, nicely even, but his laughing friend threw him off-track.

Strappo relaxed. Iduma followed soon after.

"I'll be accompanying you to the pond, Shy," she said. "I don't trust this one to relax."

Strappo scoffed. "I'd rather not have the stink of manure wafting around the pond. Go back to pretending to till fields."

"I'm a humble farmer. Humility—does it definition continue to elude the creature who knows so much about ghosts? They, the humblest of all things."

Her patented hat-trick. Iduma, if she liked anything beside farmwork and a noticeable absence of crime, loved to hint at being somewhere longer than anyone thought. Strappo either hid his surprise or knew, and proceeded to shout anyway. It occurred to me that the two knew each other, in some capacity, through Bercreaux.

"You're really a farmer? Howdy! I'm Giratina. That piercing in your ear. It was invented in the eastern parts of the Sand Continent, and I doubt there is arable land over there."

"No, _you_ were invented in the eastern parts of the Sand Continent, so shut your mouth." She poked the yellow bead with her claw nervously. It seemed to shimmer for a split second.

That last comment forced Strappo to simmer down. "Er, okay? As a matter of fact, I was 'invented' in the Grass Continent by my loving mother and handsome father. You sure ran out of steam fast. I was _this_ close to seeing you as a threat, but you're all bluster."

"Quiet, lard."

"Ah, like I'm back in school. Let's go line-and-file to the pond, _children_." I despised the way he looked at me, judging my aversion to becoming an explorer.

Let me skip the inane insults on the walk to the pond and bring you this, my feelings at the time. Strappo's words struck my heart. They transformed what was manageable, my desire to throw myself headfirst into danger, into what it was all along. An insatiable habit, with sharp teeth buried in my head. It was the books' fault, stupid things. I read all about adventure and ended up wanting it—is that supposed to be an obvious result? It wasn't at the time! How was I supposed to know what lurked in those warm, lonely mornings reading stories of time-traveling and of real estate purchases devolving into fights against unhappiness itself? I thought my body heating up was from the sun. I thought the awful yearning in my chest was from the high stakes. I thought I was being empathetic when I put myself in place of the heroes.

I wasn't as far from my brother as I assumed. Our want of adventure forced us onto a slope. No getting off. No sticking your paws against the ground, grinding to a halt. How did I feel on the walk over to the pond? Sad, mostly. I was being led to adventure, the word _yes_ already resting on my tongue. Alas, an adventure is a horrible, pungent event by any account. Take my—the present _my_ bringing you this story—word for it.


	4. Chapter 4, the sad impetus to my story

Iduma and Strappo, to my great surprise, fostered a sort of acquaintanceship over the walk. We were now resting by a fallen tree, landmark just before the evolution pond.

"So—mangoose," Strappo said. _Man_ goose was a portmanteau of manure and zangoose. I secretly thought it was funny. Not the best quip, not the worst. It didn't bother Iduma, or else I would have spoken up about it. "Let's say, if you _were_ from the sand continent, what did you do? What _would_ you do, sorry."

"Farm," she grunted.

" _Come on_ , your whole clandestine attitude's gotten old. Are you an escaped convict or someone with a shady past?"

I stomped a paw, chuckling. "Don't be silly. Iduma wouldn't hurt a fly."

The zangoose smiled and rubbed her nose with the blunt end of her left claw. "This typhlosion is an explorer. He cannot help his curiosity. Nor the stupidity he exudes every waking minute."

"Oh, you melt me with your soft expressions— _ex-explorers-say-what_!"

"What?" Iduma asked. She realized her grave mistake and snorted, an incredulous look on her face. "And you dare call me the one with schoolish antics. Let me reiterate: I have not done a lick of exploring in my lifetime... dumb, er... foolish badger."

"You can't lie," Strappo declared. "The _stupid-pokémon-say-what_ technique is sacred. More sacred than going under oath."

"Shut your foolish mouth."

"As sacred as Earth-Ventriloquism is to the Mound tribe. Which is where you're from."

The phrase sounded like gibberish to me, but it forced a gasp out of Iduma. She reached up to touch her earrings, and—I had never seen her do this—remove them hastily. My innocent jokes and suspicions became full-blown, and I took a precious moment to reassess Iduma. Larger than life, muscular beyond what field-work allows. A look in her eyes definitely not grown in the boring pastures that surrounded Sunstarch. The chance she knew _Earth Ventriloquism—_ whatever in Arceus's name that meant—and hailed from a far-off tribe... I was shamelessly bewildered.

I was broken out of my wonder by a flower shoved in my face.

"I'll call the mercy rule on our tit-for-tat, Iduma." He wiggled the flower and turned to me. "Are you ready for this, pipsqueak? This is a Gracidea flower. You place it in the water in order to evolve."

I struggled past being called a _pipsqueak_ , gasping twice before saying, "how is it still alive? You've been keeping it in your bag."

"You keep proving to be real student," he replied, giving me a proud nod. "This flower is about as natural as my fire. It functions the same, follows the same laws, yet has, well, _properties._ Gah. The only way you'll understand is getting your powers. Oh. And Zruaset has some fantastic scholars on the subject—"

"You will feel tingly at first," Iduma said, shoving in front of the typhlosion. "Then you will feel good. If you don't feel tingly, come out, and we will try again tomorrow. Visions aren't unheard of, if you have one, ride along and let it take you away. Take deep breaths like we practiced."

I showed her how good I was at breathing evenly. Already, I felt calmer.

Iduma smiled. "My species does not evolve. We undergo _quickening_ , which has its differences. I cannot tell you how the actual form-changing will be."

Strappo chuckled. "I can. It's unspeakably tremendous. I've done it twice and still can't find appropriate terms."

"What if my evolution goes wrong?" I asked.

A legitimate concern, backed by cases throughout history. Pokémon stepping out of the pond, only to find their right arm had been lost to the glowing water. Or their mind plagued with one of a slew of mental illnesses associated to evolution. Such as acute nocturnalism, feral-instinct-disorder, and mindbreak among the bunch. Rare cases, not impossible, all scaring me witless. I swore to never read the _possible_ _side effects_ chapter of any book ever again.

"It won't." Iduma gestured towards the path. "The pond is sanitary and traffic to it is tightly controlled." Our family didn't eat meat often. When we did, it was from a deer who had gotten too interested in the pond. The water refills if a creature drinks from it, but it can become tainted from animal leavings.

I was afraid to say Iduma's technical answer wasn't enough to settle me. But that was okay, because Barf arrived. He charged towards me—he was twice as excited as when he was running from the shards.

"I can't believe I came back _right_ on the day you evolve!" Barf shouted, dancing over me. I wasn't scared. He wouldn't ever slip up and step on me. "Man, I wish I could evolve now, too. Then we'd both be big dogs! Arf, arf, arf!"

"Calm down," I said, unable to stop smiling.

Strappo sighed. "What makes you think he'll be a dog like you?"

"Uh... we're brothers, Strappo. Brothers stay alike."

The typhlosion laid a paw over his face. "I can't believe I share the job market with such stiff _competition_." He looked at me. "Your evolution, I saw it during my research. It is canine in nature. Small frame, long legs."

"Hands would have been nice," I thought out loud. "Then it would be easier to read. For the size department, any growth is an improvement."

Bercreaux finally spoke up, his voice forlorn. "Well, the time to speculate on fate is over—it's time to confront it. Except..." he shifted about. It wasn't often I saw father become anxious. "Strappo left it to me whether to tell you this, but..."

"What is it?" I asked reluctantly.

"Because of your species, you will only be evolved during the daytime. You _will_ , however, retain your powers in either period."

Barf, master of getting in the first word, butted in. "That's _stupid!"_ He barked. "Fix it, dad."

I let out a paltry harrumph. Of course there had to be a catch. Yet... I must confess it didn't phase me. In fact, I bet none of them noticed my grin falter for a split-second.

"We'll cross that bridge later," I said. Unable to help myself, I gave my father a clumsy nod. "Father, Bercreaux, do I have your permission to enter the evolution pool outside Sunstarch?"

The absol smiled ear to ear. "You do."

I grabbed the Gracidea flower and bolted down the path. Barf whooped after me, and Iduma said something I missed, as I was skittering down as fast as my stubby legs could carry me. Soon I was puffing, no longer dodging high rocks in the path but bowling right over them like my brother.

The smell of water drifted from the clearing ahead. The green light of the forest seemed to grow stronger around a portal made from tree limbs and shrubbery. Trees grew close-together to shield the pond, but I could still see the blue light. Now heaving for air, I stumbled in through the gate.

Those of you already evolved, I suppose it would be foolish to try and describe an evolution pond. For the uninitiated, start with this idea: the water hums.

A thought raced through my mind. What if I was too small for the well? I wasn't a great swimmer. Yet my fears were for nothing, as I found the shallowest piece after going around to the other side.

 _Well, this is it_ , I told myself. I encountered a sharp sensation. What came next, I concluded, would make me want to explore. Because burning curiosity had festered in my chest, and this water didn't promise to cool it down.

I stretched out, touching the pond with a paw. Iduma forgot to warn that evolution ponds pull you in. _Drag_ you in, as mine did to me. I was just starting to get used to the cold water when I found myself belly-up in the thick of it. The described tingly feeling hit me. I was ready. _I was ready to evolve._

I laughed nervously and rolled onto my feet. Strappo was right on the money: I felt like I was on the cusp of evolving, yet there was something missing. His gift, the flower.

 _Yes_ , I decided as I laid down the Gracidea flower. _I think I'll accept your offer, Strappo._

The pond's glow became a flare. All at once I found my body thrown into the deep-end, my paws brushing against the floor of the pond. I bubbled and tried to swim upward, only to find myself held down. I shut my eyes as my body trembled without my permission, hoping... it was supposed to be this tremendous.

In ancient legend—the originary kind—Arceus settled a war amongst the Legendaries, his first creations, with a scream. Music originated from the notion of understanding it. This scream, so deafening, carried within it notes strong enough to pass time, move space, give powers and create life itself. The Legendaries learned to mimic parts of this scream, each a different way. One popular example is the Dimensional Scream, owned by Dialga and Palkia. A scream so powerful and inherent it can alter time and space. The first exploration guild had a member able to decipher the lingering trebles of Dialga's screams. He could see the entire horizon of temporality of objects and pokémon through touch. Ever since Arceus receded and allowed the Legendaries to rule, they have guided the world's growth with their screaming.

The point is: before Arceus screamed, he had tried a quieter method of stopping the war. This was also recorded by the Legendaries, developed through the ages, and then became something you might recognize: _language._

And that is where I lie, and where I think all evolved creatures end. The process of evolution is a single scream. Yet there are parts where language can come in to supply details.

While evolving, I had a vision of a Lake Guardian. As Iduma mentioned and evolve creatures know, this not uncommon. I was visited by azelf, being of pure willpower, who shouted magic down my spine and cradled my head, a solemn look on its face. I was wordlessly scared, yet ultimately it left me glad.

A vision of a garden rose from nothing. I recognized it as the one where my Gracidea flower grew. What else do I see above the other flowers, but Strappo strung up by his feet! The wartortle who acted as his guide was laid out across the grass, three bemused stantler standing guard over him. All the pokémon of the Glen were amused by the two's situation—one in particular watched from the edge of the treetop homes, howling with laughter. It was a pleasant scene to see.

Finally, a form came to me. It asked me what I wanted to do with myslef. I answered, but could not hear my own voice over the roaring in my ears—the noise of moving water as I returned to my senses. The form dissolved, and the process ended.

I apologize to the unevolved for this odd account. Don't be scared of it. It isn't the most moving change you will experience, nor the first. For me, it was a reminder of my potential. For once, I imagined my potential free of doubts, free of my life in Sunstarch where I am sequestered for my own safety. I promise... the going-between of these three visions was nothing less than riveting. A screaming change.

I distinctly remember coughing up water as the point where I regained control over my body. There was a soreness in my chest, as if I had been holding my breath for a long time.

My first thought was to stand up and look for the sun, to see how long I had been out.

Try to envision my surprise: when I rose up, I kept going higher, higher, higher!

I looked down at my new legs. _Long._ There were as long as Barf's legs. I explored my new maw, learning the quick lesson of not pressing my tongue against my fangs. My scent was no longer grassy and clear, but earthy and real.

I cheered to myself, dancing on my long legs. My right foreleg slipped and I tumbled down. My first steps were like a deer's, jumping through each motion with all of my concentration. A tree nearby caught my attention. Hopping up onto my hind legs, I was able to lean against it and peek inside a hole unreachable in my old form. A squirrel, likely regretting his choice of home, made a run for it, dropping several chestnuts in his wake. I cried out and fell backwards, laughing madly at the fleeing animal.

 _Powers. I have powers._ I felt them swelling up. My body had two slits located on the top of my shoulder-blades. These could summon vines, strong enough to strike bark from a tree. I surmised, from instinct, I could also summon up spores from the slits, my mouth, or the fur along my back. I settled my paws in the dirt, aiming at the tree. A vine or two wouldn't hurt the pond.

"No," I said to myself, relaxing. "I want to show everyone."

I no longer puffed. It was stumbling at first, but soon my awkward lurches became a full-on sprint. The rocks in my way before—so, so small! A five-minute run had become one. When I heard my family's voices again, I didn't stop, I grew faster. They fell silent, hearing my slamming paws on the dirt. Barf got a taste of his own medicine, feeling _my_ footsteps before _I_ broke from the brush!

He stared at me as I ran by, my giant tongue lolling teasingly. Even in my high speed, I saw his smile grow. He didn't need to ask if I was his brother. My smile widened, and in an instant, I was being chased out of the forest.

I was as of yet unused to running, so the growlithe caught me effortlessly. We rolled in the grass. To my surprise, he was very gentle, teaching me the right way to push and prod in a mock-fight. He was much heavier than I was. Despite this difference, I felt _giant._ Larger than the world.

He hoisted me up with all four of his legs. I scrambled in the air, about to faint from the fun. I took a moment to look around me at the expanse of green. The expanse I stood above.

"You're so big," Barf cried. "Shy, look at you, you're my size. We can play-wrestle all day! Let me get a better look." He unceremoniously bucked me off. I slammed onto the ground. I absorbed most of the impact. "You look _cool_. You have a scarf of some sort. No more flowers, too. Spin around. Wait—lemme see your teeth, I want to see if you've got bigger incisors..."

We continued like this until the others reached us.

"The way you sprinted out of there," Bercreaux said, "we thought something went awry."

Iduma nodded. "Excellent land-speed and stamina." She jolted. "Is what Strappo told me on the way over. I-I have no idea if you are fast."

The typhlosion sneered. "Right, sure, _I_ said it. Everything feel good, kid? No fifth arm poking out of your back?"

"Perfect. Strappo..." I looked at my father. He chose the right time to look off somewhere else. "I thought about your offer. I'd really like to be an explorer."

My father whipped around. "Oh?" Even Barf was speechless. "You conniving animal, Strappo, snatching up my child. Now I see why Iduma followed you." He wasn't angry in the slightest.

"All's fair in exploration," Strappo teased, smiling at having gotten his way. "Let's conduct a test for my sake. Try letting a vine out. Do you need any instructions on how to summon your power?"

"N-No, I think I have it." I stifled my excited laughter and planted my paws. Closing my eyes, I tried to coax a vine out of my shoulder. My head started to throb.

I opened my eyes again, wiggling the headache away. "Oof. I guess I'm a bit dizzy. That kinda hurt."

My words wiped the smile of Strappo's face. He looked at me, gaunt. "Hold it. It _hurt_?"

"I'm fine, lemme try again. I'll go for broke!"

"Wait a minute, Shy."

"Hope you catch like the shard."

"Wait, wait a minute. Don't."

"Here...it...comes—"

This is where I wish I could say things had gone differently. I wish I could give this story: the vine shot from my shoulder, smacking Strappo in the face (to Iduma's great amusement). He apologized for growing so cautious, explained the problems some pokémon have after evolving, of which I am an expert and can once again impress him. Then he asks my father's permission to take me on as his pupil. My father agrees, we leave three days later for Zruaset, and I grow into a middling explorer.

No. I cannot say those things happened, even if I wish to. Because my vine shot out three feet before falling. I went into neurogenic shock.

For those who don't know what that is, it's when you suffer a pain so great your body begins to shut down.

I lurched forward several steps. It was impossible to breathe, as if I erased the memory of breathing so I could fit in all of the pain. It wasn't enough to let it in, so I felt nothing—except the numbness of my tongue. I began to rub my tongue against my chops, confused. I kept walking forward mumbling to myself. That is, the sunny day became pitch black.

* * *

I came to hours later. Around late afternoon.

I remembered that I was in my evolved form. Also, there was a warm trickle on my nose. Blood. Nosebleed? I wiped it away, concerned.

"B-Brother!" Barf whined and ran up to the elevated infirmary bed. "D-Dad, he's awake."

"Wuh... where am I?" More bleeding. I had been awake all of a minute and had grown tired of this stupid nosebleed. I thrust my nose into the bedding. All that ended up succeeding in, was ruining the fine sheets with a red blotch. "My nose..."

"Jerzper gave you herbs to make your heart powerful. She said a nosebleed means you're evening out." Jerzper, the village doctor. My heart sank. " _Shy_!" He rubbed his head against my side, getting rid of tears. "Y-You fell over, and you weren't breathing. Your heart stopped," he whispered, as if its mention might bring the affliction back. "No one knew what happened."

Even so I didn't feel it, I told my brother, "everything's great. I was letting out a vine, and then..."

Bercreaux and Jerzper came into the room. Following them was Strappo and Iduma. The two had lost their tiny acquaintanceship and it isn't embellishment to say my guardian was ready to draw blood.

The chimecho looked me over. "Hurry, now: what is your name?"

This, among all else, broke the story for me: my evolution had failed in some way. "S-Shy," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Where were your born?"

"Not sure." Everyone in the room began to look at each other. I hated it.

"I grew up in Sunstarch, though," I finished, biting back the urge to show teeth.

"What is a memory you have with, say, Barf, from over three years ago but not over six?"

There were plenty. "When he told me he wanted to become a hero, he got up on a perch. And then he fell off while trying to be dramatic."

Barf gave a happy-tearful-sniff. "That's me."

"Why are you testing my memory?" I stood up on the bed. "Dad? Something happened. Tell me."

Jerzper took good care of me when I was sick, so I didn't flinch when he laid one of his tassels across my paws. "I'm so sorry, Shy, I ran tests on your mind again and again. You..." he looked back at my father, who gave him a short nod. "It appears the evolution went awry. You are mindbroken."

" _M-Mindbroken?!_ " I yowled. " _Mindbreak..."_ Such a deflating, awful word. To this day, I still _hate_ seeing it, writing it, hearing it, thinking about. It came up in my childhood readings, and the moment I read its effects, it burrowed into the the back of my mind as one of those far-off risks I give far too much credit to. It'd never happen in this day and age, right?

The rare disease called mindbreak. Arises in botched evolutionary conditions. Sufferers, dubbed mindbroken, who try to use their powers encounter an unbelievable pain jolting from their head to their anterior, or along their spine if they have one. It could throw a sufferer into shock, like my incident. That wasn't its limit for cruelty... if I ever pushed myself too far... I could outright die. I might have died _right at the pond._ I was so close to trying my powers there. But I got lucky in deciding to save it for later. Not that I felt fortunate. No, right when I uttered the word _mindbreak_ , I did not feel lucky to be alive.

I dully wiped more blood from my nose. All this waiting around the village, doing nothing but growing crops. It turned out to be for little more than to cement me as a liability. In front of my father, my brother, Iduma , Strappo and Jerzper, I laid out in my new body and cried. The word _unfair_ raced through my mind. _So unfair._

"Bercreaux," Strappo said. His voice was breathy. "I checked the pond and it was fine. The flower brought this about, it's the only explanation... whatever the Glen did to it, I will figure it out. I will make them pay."

"This must be how they foretold," Bercreaux muttered, "that Shy would stumble into their domain of his own volition. I bet everything they can 'fix' his problem." He gave a ragged sigh. "If you don't mind my saying so Strappo... you are usually better at spotting schemes. What happened?"

Strappo's snarl was absent-minded. "An awful thing. Some plot far darker than blackmailing a child. I... I didn't make a mistake. I made sure the flower was good. I had it appraised... was it my bag that ruined it?" He numbly turned around his backpack and rifled through the contents. "Nothing here to taint a flower. D-Did it wilt somehow... maybe it was when Shy carried the flower. No. The ghost from earlier this morning. No. Perhaps..."

Barf groaned. "Enough already! Who cares about schemes or _whatevers_? All we need to know, is we have two fire pokémon and forests are _flammable!_ Stupid Glen, I'll burn down their home using _my_ powers—see them stop me with a flower. _"_ He didn't notice the unintentional insult in that last addition. Of course he wouldn't be stopped by a flower. No decent pokémon would. I curled up, crying harder. I hated my species. Idol-status be damned. All the stupid ceremonies and praised I received for helping turnips grow. I wish I was in another body. I would trade a feebas half-dead at the bottom of a dried gulch with eight vultures circling overhead.

Iduma shook her head. "The forest is not what's guilty here, Barf." She shot a look over at Strappo. "I don't think you can justify razing a place of nature."

 _Strappo brought me a ruined flower_ , I thought. Then, _no, I refuse to let this be the end of things._ Growling, I rose to my feet and tried to summon another vine, mustering up my anger in an attempt to beat the mindbreak.

More agony. I shrieked and tumbled onto my side, flipped off the bed, and fell flat on my back. The pain was the fiercest I had felt in my life. The scariest part? It was my own body doing the damage. Iduma couldn't protect me from it. I got up. I tried to summon a vine. A bit of it came out of my shoulder, until the jolts once again shot through my body. I was failing the test to be an explorer. Shoot out a vine. I struggled onto all fours. I tried a vine. Pain. Up. Vine. Pain. Again.

Up.

Vine.

Pain.

Again—

"Stop!" My brother shouted, finally breaking the cycle. "Come on, doofus, you'll hurt yourself."

"I want this," I whined. "More than anything I've ever wanted."

"You've gotta protect what's in here." He petted my head carefully. His dusty paw soothed me. "There's a lot of words and stuff inside you. They can't take your book-smarts away, but, er... _you_ can. Did I put that right? I don't know, I only know I can't let you do this to yourself."

If it wasn't for my brother... I might have kept trying, destroying the asset I had left: my wits. I let out a long breath, surrendering myself to the infirmary's floor. I resumed my crying.

"All the books on explorers tell me if I want something badly enough, I can overcome any obstacle," I said between sobs.

The adults refused to comment. Barf petted me without saying another word.


End file.
